The united opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1881-1970, 1887-04-08
Obituary..

line funeral SERVICES were COHuuCtCu u
the residence of her father, by her pas
tor, Rev. A. j. Hough, on Wednesda!
afternoon. A large company gathered
to show their respect for the dead AM
offer their sympathy for the living. W.
give the substance of Mr.. Houglls re
marks on the occasion. He used two
passages of scripture: "Why should's
thou die. before thy time?' "To die il
gain" Eccles. vii. II, Phil. i. 81, ans
spoke ON the theme, Loves Question
Answered.
How natural it is for us to ask thi'
question when young life goes Out
from one of our home circles? Itspringt
spontaneously to our lips. For who
ever thought of grave for his child!
We plan for our children; hope goes on
into the future. We arrange for their
school life, their business life, their
new home life. Love provides before
hand for its own and marks out al
ideal pathway for them into which 10
sickness shall enter, and where success
shall attend all their steps. When our
eyes grow dim they shall see for us (;
when our limbs grow feeble we will
lean ON their strength, and at life's
eventide rest under the shadow of their
home roof, and be tenderly nourished
and sustained by their ministry. This
is the picture hope paints. for Love,
and when the picture is spoiled before
our eyes the question will rise up from
the depth of the heart, "Why should
est thou die before thy timeT' Millions
have asked it with trembling lips. We
are asking it here to-day. This ques-
ton is deepeked by the apparent fail
ure of Gods own design. 1t is alto
gether beyond the power of any quail
ty of mind less than divine to design
anything akin to the delicately wrought
structure of the human frame. What
power to love slumbers in the heart
What skill is wrought into the hand
What mines of wealth lie buried in the
brain! What divine fires flash out
from the eye! What music trembles
in the voice What a strange, restless
sea of glory is the human mind! And
looking into the dead face of youth,
with every power mutilated, like the
harp of the minstrel with, every string
broken, it would seem that God him
self had failed in the execution of his
design for that life. And with our
limited vision that old question of love,
"Why shouldest thou die before thy
timer is the most natural one for us
to ask.
1t gathers force when the life was
blameless and occupied large place in
the home: Unconsciously the delicate
tendrils of our love feel after and
Irvine about the beautiful child life
God sets at our side, and we do not re-
alize how much that life has become a
part of ourselves, until, like the ivy
which has been torn from shattered
our affections lie sundered and
bleeding. Then we turn to the one
abiding, changeless heart of Love with
the cry,
"Other refuge have none
Hangs my helpless soul on thee
Leave, y leave he not alone,
Still support and comfort me-"
The beautiful and the pure dying in
heir early prime, while the Jaimless,
The unlovely and baneful lives live on
among us, gives that old question
weight of emphasis and a tone of pa
.hetic sadness unequalled by any the
human heart can frame.
This question is peculiarly the moth
'r's question in the presence of her
,hild. Death to her is more than it is
o the stronger natures in the home.
The world with it's thousand activities
,alls us forth, and engages our atten-
ion, and we seem to forget the face
hat has gone out and the voice that is
still; for the world is crowded in
which we move, and the great chorus
IF human voices seems to be always
perfect. But home is the realm of the
that is her world, and face is
sadly missed, and a voice taken out
from the household choir makes the
music of her life forever incomplete.
My brother men, life and death mean
more to our mothers and wives, than
to us, even as home means more to
them than it can to us; and heaven
with its shining walls and jeweled
gates wears for them brighter sheen
because it is home, and the sacred
keeper of the home faces and the home
voices until they come. "Why should
est thou die before thy timer" is their
question with depth of meaning and
bitterness of sorrow we cannot know.
But the answer to Loves question
comes with ringing clearness and al
most startling brevity: "To die is
gain!" 1t is Gods answer. 1t is his
defence of his work. There is no fail
IRE. 1t comes to us with tone of ull-
assurance. There is no loss,
no death, "what seems so is transition.
The tides of life flow on. Thought
flows OH in clearer, fuller tide. There !
IS gain in breadth and depth and sweep /,
If vision. Our sister showed, in her
school life at Montpelier, rising above 2
;he level of the highest grade Of honor I
n her studies, powers that in the UNI c
fettered freedom of purely spiritual b
ife will grow and blossom out into
,eanty. To die is gain. Love flows +
IN. 1t is stronger than death. Itloses +,
forgets no face, but holds its 7,
,wn with an ever deepening tender
ness of passion and purity Of touch.
Mother, father, brother appear trans
figured in the life of the purified affec- /
ions of the heavenly life. To die is \
yain. For the heart, still here to-day
which loved the little children and the q
lowers, and chung to its own with such